by Nyla Ditson
The fight left me in a sudden whoosh. Mentally exhausted, I rubbed my head. What happens if that’s a promise I can’t keep?
Sebastian shook his head sadly, his eyes filling with sympathy. Then suffer the consequences, Celeste.
Goosebumps emerged at Sebastian’s dark comment and tone. I finished my warmed drink in four gulps and sat on my hands. I need something to distract me, something to make me forget about Sam, my dad, the pain . . . I tilted my head to one side and closed one eye to study Sebastian. His hair was my “bingo” moment. The perfect distraction. His hair had dried perfectly straight, his bangs swept to the side like a model. It was hard to tell if his black fleece was dry. But I knew from the bit of his pant leg sticking out beside me on the chair that his jeans were completely dry.
Lucky angel, no soggy socks for you.
Sebastian looked up from folding a Starbucks napkin into an accordion fan. He didn’t say anything but his smile confirmed he’d heard the thought. “You know what I find most intriguing about you?” he shocked me by asking.
“What?” I asked, annoyed at the breathless way it came out. I guess the hopeful schoolgirl stays with you long after graduation. Darn you, angel. Why do you have to remind me of a high school jock? You’re messing with my plans to be miserable 24/7. But at least it was providing me with a distraction. I just needed a break for a moment. Then I promised myself I would return to my gloomy disposition.
Whether he heard me or not, Sebastian didn’t let on. “What’s odd is that I know you,” Sebastian disappointed me by saying. My shoulders slumped as I listened to his explanation. “It’s like I know who you are, what you’re made of, your likes, dislikes…”
I tuned him out, thinking back to his comment about being organized. He’d said he’d known I would get a kick out of it. Nothing had happened prior to that to give him the knowledge of my obsessive organization skills throughout our brief relationship.
“And in that moment, I knew blue cheese was a creation of the devil,” Sebastian’s voice cut into my thoughts.
My face jerked up from the swirled grey table top. “Huh?”
Sebastian laughed. “You weren’t listening so I needed to get your attention back.” He took his feet off the chair and stretched his arm over the empty chair beside him. “You humans are so funny, listening only to what holds your fancy. It’s a remarkable talent, though. There’s even a running joke in heaven inspired by that certain ability of yours.”
“I’m not sure I want to know but do tell anyways.”
“When it’s around Christmas or an angel’s assignment’s birthday, at least a dozen angels will chime in at the same time and say, “I wish I was getting a present; I’d ask for selective hearing!”
Personally, I didn’t find it that funny. But Sebastian slapped his leg and let out a loud laugh like it was the joke of the century. He was making so much noise that a group of teenage girls glanced our way. But their annoyed faces quickly turned to appreciation when they saw what the person laughing looked like.
Yeah, I know he’s good looking. But what I wouldn’t give to get rid of him . . . , I thought. The girls tossed me jealous looks before turning back to their frappuccinos.
Sebastian’s laughter immediately stopped. “I do wish you’d refrain from referring to me that way. It’s inappropriate.”
“Then stay out of my head.”
“Believe me, I would if I could.” Sebastian copied my stance after I crossed my arms. “Knowing females’ thoughts is not as enjoyable as one might assume.”
“What, you already know you’re amazingly good looking so you can’t stand hearing me think it?” I challenged. My stomach suddenly clenched, my breakfast begging to surface. This whole conversation instantly felt like a cruel joke. I shouldn’t be thinking about stuff like this. I’m a murderer and however more waking moments I decided to have should be spent trying to make myself miserable.
Reading my thoughts, Sebastian gave me a sad smile. “I’m flattered, even if it’s wrong for you to think of me that way.” He nodded towards the young guy working behind the counter. “It’s hearing your thoughts and opinions about other males and having to endure your constant evaluations of other female’s outfits that wearies me, metaphorically speaking.” He finished his water and crumpled the plastic bottle with his fist. “If I hear you think, ‘Oh I looove her shoes! I wonder where she got them?’ one more time I may go mad.”
Weakly, I smiled at his poor imitation of a high-pitched girl’s voice. I knew it was solely for my benefit, I bet he could do a pretty accurate impression if he wanted. But I hadn’t been evaluating outfits or noticing guys, aside from the one in front of me. Mostly I’d been upset with Sebastian and myself for neglecting to fulfill my consequential duties as a murderer. Sebastian was just trying to distract me from the sudden, depressing clouds from my mind.
Shaking my head I sighed. “Sorry, I’ll try to keep my feminine thoughts to myself from now on.” Even though you and I both know that’s not what I was thinking about.
Sebastian sighed and what he muttered next made me accidently burst out in laughter as if the greatest joke of all time had just been told: “If only God would be so kind.”
Thanks, Sebastian. As much as I don’t deserve it, laughing feels . . . nice.
His reply came lightening quick. You’re welcome, Celeste. He reached for my cold hand and patted the top. But you’re wrong about one thing.
Feeling a thousand and one years old, I lifted my face, questions circling in my eyes as I met his. “About what?” I asked.
“Everyone deserves to laugh… No matter what colours their past.”
Chapter 5
“What’s the biggest dream you’ve ever imagined for yourself?” Sebastian asked me.
I watched the teenagers eye Sebastian as they walked past us. “Like at night?”
“No, as in a personal dream for the future.”
“Oh, that’s easy. I want to be a doctor.”
“How come?”
I bit my lip. Did I really want to voice this? Oh, why not? I tried not to get distracted by the golden specks in Sebastian’s pale blue eyes. “Dr. Seuss is actually the reason.”
He blinked but otherwise remained unmoving.
I rushed on, feeling the need to explain. He probably thought he was sitting across from a lunatic now. “When I was five, my kindergarten teacher read the class Green Eggs and Ham. I was about to explain the plot to Sebastian but then stopped myself. Someone like Sebastian would surely know all about Dr. Seuss books.
After eating the last chunk of banana bread, savouring the taste of melted chocolate, I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “After she read us the book, I couldn’t get one character out of my head.”
“The one Sam-I-am tries to encourage to try green eggs and ham?”
I nodded. “I kept wondering if maybe there was something I’d never tried before and actually might like. By the end of the book that character discovers he actually loves green eggs and ham. So I was completely beside myself, worrying there might be something I was missing out on, too.”
“That’s rather precocious for a child of only five years.”
I thumbed a crumb of banana bread and stuck it in my mouth, nodding. “Maybe, but it inspired me to talk to my dad about my worries.”
“And what did he say?”
“He pulled me up onto his lap, turned off Sports Center, and focused completely on me,” I explained as I blinked away the start of tears. The image of my pig-tailed self, sitting with Dad on the lazy boy chair was vividly real.
I took a deep breath to compose myself. “And he asked me, ‘Well what do you think you might not like, Celeste? What is your green eggs and ham?’” I smiled at Sebastian through my stubborn tears. “I had to think long and hard about that one.”
“I
bet.”
“But after a very long time I finally looked up at him and said, ‘I don’t think I would like being a doctor very much.’” Remembering the long ago story, I allowed my eyes to wander around the room. I watched the teenager behind the counter mix a specialty drink. It looked like something frothy.
When his voice broke into my thoughts, I turned my attention back to the blond haired beauty before me. “What happened after that, Celeste?”
“I jumped off his lap and scampered down stairs.”
“To do… ?”
“Play dress up.”
Understanding dawned in Sebastian’s eyes. “Don’t tell me you rooted through the trunk and found a white lab coat and stethoscope?”
“Bingo.” I wished Sebastian had brought me water. Cool liquid water sliding down my throat would have helped ease my embarrassment. “And after studying myself in the mirror, I decided I actually liked the idea of being a doctor and that one day I would be one just like Dr. Seuss.”
“You are aware he was not a medical doctor?”
“Of course,” I said. Sebastian didn’t have to know it wasn’t until I was seventeen that I learned that little fact.
Either God thought that was confidential information or Sebastian was just pretending not to have heard because he simply nodded. “That’s an intriguing story, very captivating.”
“Uh, thanks,” I said, unsure of what to make of his response.
Sebastian leaned forward, his eyes shining with that strange light of his. “So that’s truly what you dream of most? Becoming a doctor?”
I didn’t answer for a moment. When I meet his lovely eyes my own were tearing up once again. “Yes, I want to save lives and make a difference. Even if it’s in only one person’s life.”
“That’s very noble.”
His compliment sent warmth surging through my chest. “Dad said I looked as amazing as blueberry pie when I came scampering up the stairs to show him. And that if I wanted to be a doctor, I could do it.” I looked down at my hands and my voice broke into a soft whisper. “Because I was his little star.”
Sebastian smiled but his next words were careful. “I’m not trying to sound cynical, but did you even consider the possibility that you might not get into medical school?”
“No.”
“It’s a very real possibility, I’m afraid. Not everyone gets in. Or graduates if they do.” He studied me, likely reading my thoughts. “Oh,” he said after a moment. “You really do want this badly.”
“In the worst way.”
“And you’re not about to let anything stop you from obtaining this dream.”
It wasn’t a question but a stated fact.
“Yes,” I met Sebastian’s gaze head on. “This is one thing that even death can’t cheat me of if it tried.”
Sebastian frowned at my choice of words. He opened his mouth to comment but I cut him off.
“Even if it takes me a dozen tries to get into med school, I’m going there someday, Sebastian.”
“You are,” he said with another frown. It came out like a fact again as if he’d caught a glimpse of my future.
“Yes, I am.” I smiled smugly at him “because that’s what doers like me do. We don’t just dream, we actually do.” That is, if we decide to live past twenty, I thought, as my ambition deserted me and my companion of depression slipped back into place.
Sebastian gave me a sad look but didn’t remark. I almost wished he had because his look of pity and silence made me feel like a lost cause.
The kind that even God couldn’t help.
I stirred the pot of leftover chili warming on the stove. Garlic and the smell of my secret ingredient, maple baked beans, mingled in the air making my mouth water. Setting the wooden spoon aside on the counter, I ignored the red splatters it made and reached for the fridge door. I took out two processed cheddar cheese slices and spent the next two minutes preparing cheese toast. I slid the pizza pan into the oven and flipped on the stove light so I’d know when the cheese was perfectly melted and bubbly. As I spun the Dempster’s twelve grain bread bag to secure it with a twist tie, I heard Sam’s voice in my head.
“I thought you were a vegetarian, Celeste. Last time I checked cheese is a bi-product of things that go moo.”
I smiled at the memory but it quickly turned to a wince. When he’d told me that, Sam had leaned in close to my ear, nearly sending me looking for someone selling hearing aids.
I stuck my finger in the kidney bean, canned tomato, corn and mushroom concoction. It was hot so I turned the burner off. As I fished in the cupboard for a bowl, my thoughts turned again to Sam and my eating preferences. I have explained to Sam fifty times that I eat dairy products because animals aren’t harmed in the process of obtaining them, but he still says that stupid line about cows every time he sees me eating ice cream or milk. Then he proceeds to shake his head and say, “You’re crazy, Celeste, boycotting steak is despicable.”
But I think he’s the crazy one. I mean, come on, how can you not cringe when you see someone bite into a juicy hamburger? They might as well be biting into one of those cute furry animals on the Discovery Channel. When I voiced that analogy to Sam he just pulled me into a headlock and laughed “Just add ketchup, I’m sure even baby cheetah would be lip-smackin’ tasty with that condiment slathered on.”
Oh, Sam . . . What a guy, what a guy.
Seeing my toast was done, I took it out and sat down at the kitchen table to eat my comfort lunch. It was still raining outside and I wondered where Sebastian was. After leaving Starbucks, he walked me back to my apartment. I was thoroughly disappointed that angels don’t have fancy sports car like some supernatural beings I’d read about.
Ahem, vampires.
Taking a big spoonful of chili I enjoyed the feeling of my insides warming. The walk from Starbucks to home left me soaked and chilled to the bones. Even a twenty-minute hot shower hadn’t warmed me up.
Hearing my cell ring from inside my purse on the counter, I set aside my spoon and went to answer it.
It was Sam.
“Hey,” he said. “You still with Seamus?”
“Sebastian. His name’s Sebastian,” I corrected.
“Whatever,” came his reply. Obviously Sam and Sebastian felt the same way about each other. After the way Sebastian treated Sam at the library, this shouldn’t have surprised me. Except this was Sam we’re talking about. He’s usually a pretty positive guy, sometimes to the point of being irritating.
Sam coughed and I realized I hadn’t answered his question. “He’s not here, Sam.” Where Sebastian was, I could only guess. Maybe he went back to heaven? Left to get his already immaculate teeth whitened? Sam’s guess was as good as mine. It’s not like there’s a How to Know Where Your Guardian Angel Went When he Disappears As You’re Busy Unlocking Your Apartment Door For Dummies book.
“Where’d he go?” Sam asked, making me pull the phone away from my ear and stare. Should I repeat my last thoughts or keep them to myself? “He had to help another student,” I lied shoving the phone back against my ear.
“I can’t believe you’ve never mentioned him before. I’ve never seen him around school before either. What year is he in?” I bet Sam’s forehead was furrowed in concentration, desperately trying to place Sebastian.
My favourite number’s sixteen, so divide that by four . . . “He’s in his fourth year of university” I said as I walked back to the table and took a bite of cheese toast.
“What’s his last name?”
Oh boy . . . . Picking up a pen I wrote the only word that came to mind backwards on my palm. “Legna, that’s Sebastian last name.”
“Hmph, sounds like some sort of legume or constipation medicine,” Sam quipped.
Even though I laughed a feeling of darkness swept over me. What
Sebastian said about Sam still bothered me. Sam would never hurt me. If anything, he’d hurt himself to prevent me pain.
I had no intention whatsoever to stay away from my friend, even if it was ordered by my guardian angel. What did he know anyways? Well, I guess everything, providing God actually existed that is. I’m still not sold on that “baloney” yet, maybe I would be if all the other “realistic” lunch meats of life were out of stock.
“You up for a run tomorrow, Celeste?” Sam asked.
My thoughts softened at Sam’s question. Ever since Dad died he’d made sure I wasn’t alone on Sunday mornings. He knows spending the time alone, when I used to call my dad, would be brutal. Sam even made sure not to mention the topics my dad and I discussed, like our opinions on classics such as The Catcher in the Rye or The Metamorphosis. In time I would probably be able to talk about that stuff again. But not now…
I stopped myself from sighing just in time. That is, if I continue to stick around for the rest of my life. My life had become a roller coaster. One moment I was all for suicide solving my problems, the next I was determined to stay alive and miserable. Constantly contradicting myself was giving me a headache.
“Sure,” I told Sam, pushing my thoughts aside as I tiredly massaged my temples. I made sure to keep my tones light. “Should I invite Malaya to come?”
Sam snorted. “An early Sunday run? Really, Celeste? She told me yesterday beauty rest should be on Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.”
I laughed. My roommate, Malaya, is the same age as me. She’s also Sam’s little sister. With her exotic looks that match Sam’s, her long glossy black hair that’s similar to Lucy Liu’s in Charlie’s Angels and her perky personality, Malaya is a whole lot of fun in a very pretty but small package. She’s super funny too, even if she’s a bit superficial and vain at times. During Dad’s funeral she miraculously managed to make me choke back a laugh through my tears. She’d come up to me at the graveyard and put her arms around me and whispered, “I’ll miss him, massive earthquake farts and all.”